


What Doesn't Kill Me

by sileya



Category: Chronicles of Riddick (2004)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Rough Sex, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:50:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sileya/pseuds/sileya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Standing just inside the entrance to the darkened Necropolis, Vaako waited, face schooled to impassivity as time continued to march forward, toothless. </p><p>The Lord Marshal sat within, having ordered the room cleared and the lights doused, so now only starlight filtered down the metal walls, and the glow of two foreign eyes glittering in the deep shadow near the woman's body in front of the throne. An empty throne. </p><p>And still, sublimating his outrage and frustration, Vaako waited. As did the entire Necromonger race.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Doesn't Kill Me

**Author's Note:**

> Post-The Chronicles of Riddick. Credit to Alan Dean Foster, whose novelization of The Chronicles of Riddick gave me more insight into the relationship between Vaako and Dame Vaako. 
> 
> Warnings: Violent sexual activity. Physical abuse. Nothing surprising if you saw the movie.
> 
> Originally posted 4/8/2007 at http://sileyascribbles.livejournal.com/125340.html.

Standing just inside the entrance to the darkened Necropolis, Vaako waited, face schooled to impassivity as time continued to march forward, toothless.   
  
The Lord Marshal sat within, having ordered the room cleared and the lights doused, so now only starlight filtered down the metal walls, and the glow of two foreign eyes glittering in the deep shadow near the woman's body in front of the throne. An empty throne.   
  
And still, sublimating his outrage and frustration, Vaako waited. As did the entire Necromonger race.   
  
Nearly half a day had passed by his reckoning, since the First Among Commanders led the gathered in showing obeisance to the newly made Lord Marshal, since Dame Vaako's agonized screech echoed through the room, since a new convert's blood dripped to the floor not far from the late Lord Marshal's corpse. And still Riddick sat there, silent.   
  
The commander's mind played and replayed the Lord Marshal’s death and his part in it until he wanted to kill something. Preferably, his new leader. His wife had refused to even look at him as she had fled the Necropolis in shame. His army surely had doubts about his loyalty. All his glory, crumbling. With all these worries swirling in mind, Vaako was caught off guard by the summons.   
  
"Get over here."   
  
Eyes narrowing, Vaako turned and strode into the darkened room, his eyes long since acclimated, though he could not see into the shadows that surrounded Riddick like a smothering cape. The Necromonger stopped several steps away from the dais and waited.   
  
"Why did you help me?"   
  
Vaako’s face immediately twisted into a sneer, hackles rising. "What I did was in no way to help you. It was to serve my people, to bring them a strong leader."   
  
"That leader being you?"   
  
The tall, dark man's sneer faded back into his implacable mask as he remembered the Dame's stealthy manipulations and machinations. Now, he could see how she had prompted him along her chosen path. While he regretted not paying closer attention when she had employed her wiles, he would not have chosen to fight them. "So I was encouraged to believe."   
  
"Oh yeah? By who?" Riddick's voice was suddenly closer, and Vaako resisted the urge to turn his head.   
  
"You keep what you kill," Vaako said evenly, eyes trained on the throne, reciting his religion's dogma with sparks in his eyes. He would not reveal the chink in his armor – he would smooth it down himself.   
  
The first clue that Riddick was close enough to touch was the warmth Vaako felt radiating from the man. "I killed the leader of the Necromongers, so now I rule them. You didn't kill me, so I'm stronger keeping you on my side so I can tell this mess of undead freaks where to go."   
  
Vaako's shoulders impossibly stiffened more at the insult, which pricked his pride. "You would interpret recent events as such," he bit out, reining in his temper. It would not do to alienate the new Lord Marshal so quickly, he thought caustically.   
  
Riddick chuckled wryly and moved away, stepping into the flood of starlight and sitting on the step in front of the throne. "You don't like me, do you...what's your name again?"   
  
"Lord Vaako."   
  
"Right," Riddick said shortly. "So, Vaako, are you going to try to kill me now or later?"   
  
The Necromonger turned glinting eyes toward the breeder convict who had insinuated himself into this world. Vaako wasn't at all surprised by the lack of respect in dropping his proper and earned title. His lips pressed hard for a moment as he made a decision, weighing the possible repercussions. He had to plan for the future, for his people, for his faith. "Later."   
  
The first faint hints of a smile curved Riddick's blood-stained lips. "Good choice."   
  
And so began an uneasy truce, a distrustful partnership.   
  
Riddick was a foreigner, a breeder, unconverted, and the fact that he was supposed to lead the Necromongers flew in the face of their tradition and faith. It was enough to make Vaako want to march to the purification chamber and then to the training rooms until he was so exhausted in body and mind he couldn’t think about it anymore. Otherwise, he might just challenge the trash as an affront to all he believed.   
  
On Riddick's part, Vaako knew the man had no one to trust, no one to turn to for help and an entire race of bloodthirsty killers on his hands. Keeping Vaako around seemed fairly innocuous a choice, seemingly made in the time it took to blink, and the Lord Marshal was on to other concerns.   
  
Like Kyra.   
  
"She should be buried," Riddick said, glancing over to the woman's body by the throne.   
  
"It is our way to give the empty shells over to space or jettison them into a sun," Vaako offered brusquely.   
  
"A sun, huh? I think Kyra would like that. She was a hellion, that's for sure."   
  
"Was she your spouse?" Vaako asked, showing a hint of curiosity. He silently agreed with Riddick's estimation of the woman.   
  
"No," Riddick said, and he left it at that.   
  
He then issued several orders, mostly demanding information. Vaako relayed his words woodenly, such work was child's play to a man seasoned by planning and executing global invasions. Like the invasion that had ground to a halt over New Mecca. And now the First Among Commanders waited on a breeder convict like a lapdog. It made his gut curl with anger and disgust.   
  
Somewhere in the middle of the list of demands, patience worn to breaking, the Necromonger pointed out that the Lord Marshal did have a staff of advisors to answer his questions and teach him about his new people.   
  
“Are any of them warriors?” Riddick asked.   
  
“A handful, perhaps,” Vaako answered suspiciously.   
  
“I don’t trust politicians.”   
  
“We do not practice politics. We exercise our faith.”   
  
“Same difference. Get me a couple of warriors – or retired warriors – to serve as advisors. At least them I can sort of respect.” Riddick ordered. “But now, I need someplace safe I can crash.”   
  
Gritting his teeth, Vaako led Riddick out of the Necropolis. Told flatly to "take that shit off" once entering the Lord Marshal's personal chambers, Vaako edgily pulled off his outer armor, letting it clank to the floor, so that he stood stiffly in the room in his fitted garments. He did not know how to read this Riddick. The convict had managed to kill Zhylaw. He was certainly dangerous, a premier fighter. But now he seemed content to order Vaako around like a common servant, and the fury boiled in the Necromonger's throat.   
  
Grudgingly following yet another frivolous order, food was soon upon the table, a larger spread than normally ordered since Vaako had no idea of the man's tastes. About food.   
  
But he well remembered Riddick's comment about Dame Vaako.   
  
She did smell beautiful. Vaako knew that beauty was skin deep – inside she was a conniving, festering sore that craved worship and power far beyond what was normally proscribed for any Necromonger. The warrior had no concept of how to go about changing her, regardless of how much she grated on his tightly strung nerves but neither would he try. She was who she was - a ruthless, back stabbing social climber who used sexual favors to gain influence – one of the few, coveted females of the Necromonger nobility. He received the admiration and jealousy of others for having her as his woman, and she had done much to help him advance in the ranks. Yet in his heart he remained what he had been even before her influence: A soldier. Albeit one led by the nose by that luscious, heat-inducing smell of hers, a fact he for the most part could ignore.   
  
Yes. She did smell beautiful.   
  
"So what about your wife?"   
  
Startled from his dark musings, Vaako looked up from his brooding to see Riddick settled on the bench across from him, picking lazily through the food. "What about her?" the Necromonger asked suspiciously.   
  
"She seemed pretty unhappy when I killed that jerk."   
  
The dark man simply looked across the table, not sure what Riddick wanted to hear.  
  
"She going to give you a hard time when you get home?"   
  
Several interpretations of "a hard time" shot through Vaako's head, but he knew well he would not be the one to see her on her knees in front of the throne unless something changed. "Dame Vaako is...difficult...in the best of times. She will perceive my failure to dispatch Zhylaw as a mark of personal shame."   
  
Riddick snorted. "She wanted you to be Lord Marshal, didn't she?"   
  
Vaako settled on a curt nod, crossing his arms.   
  
"And she led you by your cock until you made your move." The Necromonger scowled at his plate, but he did not object to Riddick's words. It was, essentially, true, never mind that he was led willingly. "Well, that's as good a reason as any, I guess," the Lord Marshal said, picking up a meat skewer and gnawing on it.   
  
"I told you. I only wanted what was..."   
  
"...best for your people, blah blah, yeah, tell me, Vaako, just how far is that stick up your ass?"   
  
Anger flared in Vaako's eyes, and his face hardened as his hands curled into fists. The breeder was deliberately goading him, he thought.   
  
"Just checking. I thought you Necros were supposed to be emotionless. But in the time I've been here, I've seen anger, jealousy, greed, paranoia, even despair and fear," Riddick asked evenly, reaching for more food.   
  
"We are not emotionless. The purifying simply sloughs the surface emotions away so that we might focus on what is important - the furtherance of Necroism. What emotions remain are intensified to assist us in our pursuit," Vaako explained stiffly.   
  
"That certainly puts a spin on things."   
  
Vaako's narrowed eyes honed in on Riddick's goggles, retrieved from the throne room floor. "The purifying also deadens surface nerves so that we may better focus on the business of mass conversion through battle, if need be."   
  
"Or mass murder."   
  
The Necromonger looked at Riddick intently, wondering how intelligent this convict really was.   
  
"I ain't no angel, Vaako. You don't have to spare my virgin ears."   
  
"You convert or you die. There is no other choice. Mercy would only weaken us in outsiders' eyes as we progress toward our goal: Freeing this universe of the life that taints it so that we might enter the Underverse, victorious." Vaako said.   
  
"Mercy has its usefulness," Riddick said idly.   
  
The Necromonger frowned. It was not their way to explain Necroism to outsiders who were not bound for the conversion chambers. The fact that this breeder sat in judgment of them was completely counter to the core of his faith.   
  
"So now what?"   
  
"Now what?" Vaako parroted sharply.   
  
"You should know where we're going and why. Aren't you the second in command of these yahoos?" Riddick's voice belied a tinge of humor.   
  
"Of the Army, yes. That does not translate to the nobility. I am a Lord by virtue of my marriage to Dame Vaako."   
  
"Are you saying I should get your wife in here and ask her what to do with the Necromongers?"   
  
Vaako's throat filed with bile, and he swallowed with difficulty. "No," he rasped. Were he not so outwardly controlled, he would shudder to think what Dame Vaako would wreak upon them.   
  
"So," Riddick repeated with emphasis. "Now what?"   
  
The commander tried to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. What needed to be done? So much. "You must review the troops, pass judgments, decide how to proceed with the conversion of New Mecca. Prepare for your own purification. Take a consort. Meet with the nobility..."   
  
Riddick's amused voice broke his marching train of thought. "Ho - hold on - what's that about a consort?"   
  
Vaako blinked, then gritted his teeth as he was yet again reminded that their new Lord Marshal was an unconverted heathen. "Do you not understand simple words?" he ground out, again gripping the edge of the table.   
  
"Yeah, fine. So, I take a consort, some pretty piece to hang off my arm," Riddick sniped, tearing a small loaf of bread apart.   
  
"Your consort is a reflection of your status within the noble class," Vaako revealed in a cold tone. "How well you choose your consort will determine how much respect you stand to attain. And since you are unconverted and therefore worth less than dirt within our religion, you need all the help you can get."   
  
Riddick’s lips curled in amusement at Vaako’s acidic commentary. "So, trophy wives are good for something more than a fuck, huh?"   
  
"Think of it this way - you can be the brawn, she can be the brains," the Necromonger sneered in reply.   
  
Riddick actually laughed openly at Vaako's retort. "Looking at your example, that may not be in my best interest," he drawled.   
  
Disgruntled, Vaako held his tongue. Although he was not happy with his wife and her recent behavior, he knew he was better off with her status - he had long ago learned to value her usefulness and cunning without looking too much into her methods. She was the elite consort of Necropolis - that gave him much power. And she was a wild ride, when he allowed himself to be tempted to such release. He pushed away that distracting thought.   
  
Riddick chuckled some more, amused. "So that's my to-do list? Including purification."   
  
"Just the beginning," Vaako muttered.   
  
"Dream on. I'm going to crash. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”   
  
“What about the fleet?”   
  
“Head into open black," Riddick tossed as he walked away from the table.   
  
"Pull out of New Mecca? What about the invasion? What about the converts?" Vaako asked, stunned.   
  
"Are you questioning my order?" The Lord Marshal's tone was glacial and the black goggles turned toward the warrior.   
  
"No, Lord Marshal," Vaako muttered.   
  
"Good to hear. Make it happen."   
  
The Necromonger stared at the door that slid shut between them, and he had to shake his head. This Riddick was indeed brazen and confident. Perhaps even brazen enough to live more than a week beyond Vaako's thoughts and forgotten, heated dreams.   
  
==   
  
A week later, having fought many silent battles with his men to re-establish his dominance and having slept on a cot in his office, driven out of his own chamber by his harpy of a wife, Vaako thought the Necromonger race might as well just die en masse and have done with the torture. This last insult was too much.   
  
“You cannot tell them not to go to purification.” Vaako's voice was truly horrified, his feelings reflected in the faces of other advisors sitting around the large table.   
  
“Why not?”   
  
“This is not a game, Riddick. This is our religion, our way of life you have in your hands. That which gives us our driving force, our hope for the future. You should be seeking your own conversion, not seeking to subvert our beliefs.”   
  
“So you can have hope without being drugged and tortured.”   
  
“It will be anarchy. The army, specifically, has not been trained to fight while keeping bodily safety in mind. That fear for self could make them quail.”   
  
“Then they’ll have to learn.” Riddick looked evenly at the advisors, practically daring someone to speak up. Vaako plowed ahead, righteous indignation firing his blood.   
  
“And the nobles – all the ritual surrounding our religion is based on being purified and focused on our goal. What you suggest is heresy!”   
  
“You feel strongly about this, don’t you?”   
  
Vaako growled through gritted teeth. “What gave me away?”   
  
“I think I saw a glimpse of something besides rage and cold calculation.”   
  
The Necromonger slowly raised a brow as his eyes glittered dangerously.   
  
“It wasn’t meant as an insult.”   
  
“You are not a Necromonger. You have not converted. I would not expect you to understand. But think about this: Our religion and way of life are intricately intertwined. To cut one thread would cause the entire tapestry to unravel.”   
  
“Why, Vaako, I didn’t know you were a poet.”   
  
“You are a barbarian.”   
  
“Aw shucks, thanks. Fine. How about I make purification optional rather than outright banning it, although that’s what I should do anyway.”   
  
Vaako narrowed his eyes. “Optional?”   
  
“Yeah. As in each person may choose to be purified. Voluntarily.”   
  
“This is your compromise?”   
  
“Look. I could care less about your religion. But it’s obviously important to you people.”   
  
“We are your people now, remember?”   
  
“Yeah, sure.”   
  
“Riddick.” Vaako’s voice took an almost desperate tone, which caught the reluctant Lord Marshal’s attention. “This is important. You cannot just rip the mainstay of life away from our entire civilization.”   
  
“Not like you didn’t do the same for other civilizations,” Riddick retorted. “So what will happen if everyone doesn’t go to purification? It’s not like you don’t feel emotions already.”   
  
“What would you say if I told you that you could no longer fight,” Vaako said intently, leaning over the table menacingly.   
  
Riddick laughed openly.   
  
“Be serious. It is the Necromonger way. You keep what you kill. We do not birth ourselves, we convert the masses to propagate because life itself besmirches this existence. That is the knowledge that drives us to our goal: Freeing this universe of the life that taints it so that we might enter the Underverse, victorious. Have you listened to nothing the Purifier has told you?”   
  
“There is no Underverse. It’s all part of your hokey religion.”   
  
“Of course it exists. Would you say there is no heaven or hell?”   
  
“Oh, hell exists. I’ve been there.”   
  
“Would hell exist without its balance?”   
  
“I’m not a goddamn philosopher.”   
  
“Obviously you care since you take your god’s name in vain.”   
  
“I’m the Lord Marshal...” Riddick said heatedly, only to be cut off.   
  
“If you abolish the act of purification, you will be a corpse.”   
  
“By your hand?” the Furyan asked sharply.   
  
“If need be,” the Necromonger said steadily. “I will not stand idly by as you destroy what our lives are built upon in a fit of pique.”   
  
The two men faced each other across the table, intent, a dangerous tension in the air as neither flinched. The other advisors sat fearful, afraid to move for fear of disturbing the balance keeping Vaako and Riddick from each other’s throats. Finally Riddick said solemnly, “So it’s later already?”   
  
The Necromonger commander did not reply, did not look away.   
  
The Lord Marshal narrowed his eyes and finally nodded. “I’ll leave it alone. For now.”   
  
Vaako did not relieve his glower. “Good choice,” he rasped, outwardly mocking the man, inwardly shocked that he backed down. His estimation of Riddick's integrity and honor revised upward. Minutely.   
  
After a few other items of business, Riddick dismissed the advisors, many of whom fled silently. The First Among Commanders, his anger still simmering in the set of his shoulders, stood stiffly.   
  
Riddick’s mouth quirked. “You’ll be going there next, won’t you?”   
  
“Going there?”   
  
“To purification.”   
  
Vaako drew a calming breath. Just the thought of purification helped calm his thundering pulse. “Yes.”   
  
“It’s an addiction, you know.”   
  
“It’s my faith.” The Necromonger recognized now that the breeder had no real interest in this argument. Riddick simply enjoyed baiting him.   
  
“To drug yourself.”   
  
“To better myself.”   
  
“What for? God doesn’t like you the way you are?”   
  
“I could care less about what your god likes. It is not my god. I have no god, I have only purpose.”   
  
“To reach the Underverse.”   
  
“As I have explained, that is merely our reward for cleansing this universe. Our purpose drives us to that.”   
  
“I think it’s wrong.”   
  
“You are in no position to judge us, breeder. Convert, and then tell me the same.” Deliberately turning his back on the tiger, Vaako stalked from the room.   
  
It was three days later that the Lord Marshal appeared from around a corner and walked with him through the halls of the Basilica.   
  
“What do you do when you’re not killing and converting your way to the Underverse?”   
  
The conversation out of thin air did not faze Vaako, as he had expected it sooner. He answered calmly. “Purify ourselves. Teach converts the Necromonger way. Plan our next invasion.”   
  
“You weren’t kidding when you said the faith was the life,” Riddick said, shaking his head. Vaako held his tongue, knowing the man had been spending several hours a day with the Purifiers, learning about Necroism. At least there was that.  
  
“My life is not a joke.” Vaako glowered at the floor plating.   
  
“There’s nothing else? No fun? No parties? No friends? So why are you married?”   
  
“I married to gain a noble title of equivalent stature to my military rank.” There were other reasons, as well, but he would not share those aloud.   
  
“What about sex?”   
  
“What about it?”   
  
Pausing long enough that the commanding general actually looked up at him, Riddick gave Vaako an incredulous look. “You have it? It’s allowed?”   
  
“Of course it is allowed. It is encouraged, to drain off excess emotion and improve focus.” The Necro wondered if this line of questioning meant Riddick had not found someone upon whom to sate his passions.   
  
The Furyan snorted. “You use sex as a religious tool.”   
  
Vaako frowned. “You know differently, I suppose.” It was not a question.   
  
“How about sex for fun? Because it feels good? Because it’s great for relieving stress?”   
  
“Such a use of coupling is a waste of energy better put to training and promotion of the faith.” Vaako suspected he knew where Riddick's train of questions was leading. He had read the report from the Purifier that the Lord Marshal was indeed cooperating with his lessons on Necroism and listening to his advisors, but he seemed to focus on the most trivial of matters, causing the Purifiers great distress. Vaako admitted, only to himself, that he found it refreshing. Sometimes.   
  
“You gotta be kidding me.”   
  
“That is what our religion teaches. Our energy and strength is precious and should not be squandered. But should I need release, I arrange for servicing.” Although his wife routinely had kept him well-entertained in her quest to control his actions, Vaako reflected with dark humor.   
  
Riddick slowly shook his head. “You Necromongers sure know how to drain the life out of life, don’t you?”   
  
Vaako actually smirked, seeing the backward compliment for what it was. “Well said.”   
  
Rolling his eyes, the Lord Marshal sighed. “So what do I gotta do to get a piece of ass? If I need 'release'?”   
  
The commander suppressed a smile. The breeder needed to relieve himself, which both annoyed and titillated him. “There are unattached consorts who make themselves available to the nobility and officers for such servicing or coupling. It is a matter of status, and the consorts wield quite a bit of power through granting sexual services. To service the Lord Marshal would be quite notable.” The Necromonger led the way into the strategy room as he talked with the Lord Marshal. He greatly wished Riddick would find someone else to question; it had been too long since he had slaked his own heat upon his woman.   
  
“What if I want a particular person?” Riddick asked pointedly.   
  
Vaako looked up, brow creasing. “Any Necromonger would immediately serve your wishes should you request so. You are the Lord Marshal.”   
  
“What if the person is married?”   
  
Vaako tilted his head, obviously not understanding.   
  
“It’s hands off, right?”   
  
“I do not understand. Whether a Necromonger is married has nothing to do with sex.”   
  
“So I could fuck your wife?”   
  
The warrior frowned. He did not want to share her with anyone, especially a breeder. But Dame Vaako would have other aspirations, he knew. “Only because of your rank - and her ambition,” he admitted darkly. Jealousy flared within him, and he tamped it down ruthlessly.   
  
“I could fuck you?”   
  
Vaako's face went stony, and he did not answer for a long moment, his hands curled into fists on the map table. When he did look up, his eyes reflected determination. "I am the First Among Commanders. As the Lord Marshal, you command my unquestioning support when it comes to leading our people. But you do not command the use of my body, breeder."   
  
"You'll only go so far for the faith, huh?"   
  
His words cut deeper than he could know. "You will fight for the privilege if you want to touch me," he said, his voice low and frozen.   
  
Riddick's lips curled slightly as he leaned forward across the table, matching Vaako's stance. "Would I be fighting you...or your wife?"   
  
The Necromonger drew back sharply, a scowl twisting his face. His eyes turned stormier, his face even more implacable. Riddick studied him for a silent moment before turning on his heel and leaving the room.   
  
Left behind, silently seething, Vaako could not decide if he was more angry about being propositioned or about the implication that he needed his wife to deflect sexual advances. The rest of the day he was haunted by stimulating images - almost forgotten dreams - of a purified Riddick crashing against him in the hallway, their cool bodies well matched, their tempers flaring as they wrestled for the upper hand...That evening, still angered and aroused, the commander heard from Dame Vaako that Riddick had chosen one of the consorts for an hour's company, well used her body and turned her out afterward, much to society's gossiping glee. The news did nothing to improve Vaako's mood.   
  
"Steer clear of him. He is not to be trifled with," he cautioned her as he stood at the viewport in their quarters.   
  
"Neither am I, dear husband. The storm has blown over, and you seem to have kept your skin - and honor - intact. We stand to gain much if you remain in the divine Lord Marshal's good graces," she purred, crossing the room to stand next to him, easing her body close.   
  
Vaako stiffened and sneered. It was almost as if she knew his thoughts and desires and was encouraging him to use his body to ingratiate himself to the breeder. He was well aware of her machinations; his Dame had refused to have anything to do with him the past days since the new Lord Marshal took power. And now she was all slinky sweetness. Ever before Vaako had been malleable and open to her suggestion, especially when rewarded with sex. "Riddick is neither divine, nor gracious," he muttered, thinking the same of his wife.   
  
She smiled tightly. "Yet he is the Lord Marshal...quite possibly as a result of your actions."   
  
"Do you have any other complaints?" he asked harshly, arms folded.   
  
"You've had chance after chance to rid this breeder of his miserable existence, either by conversion or death. How is it that he still walks the halls of the Basilica? No one would say a word were he to disappear," she crooned, long fingers smoothing over his cheek.   
  
"He is not so easy a mark as you would imply," Vaako said tightly as his gut cramped in pleasure at the thought of ridding his people of the abomination on the throne. His eyes focused on the stars. Even if that abomination stirred his loins.   
  
"I am encouraging you to greatness!" Dame Vaako insisted sharply as she drew back, affronted by his refusal.   
  
"And commander general of our entire civilization is not good enough for you?" he grated, refusing to look at her.   
  
"Not if it means the end of our race... the faith, Vaako!"   
  
Equally angered by her words and aroused by her proximity, he spun toward her. She purposely fanned the flames. "Enough! You incited me to turn on our last leader with artful words about defending the Necromonger way, and this is what resulted. I received no indulgence, I received no reward - only this breeder who is twice the leader Zhylaw ever was!" he stormed.   
  
Her demeanor remained cool and collected as she spewed her poison, despite the rushed calculation behind her mask. "You will never see the Underverse - this convict will lead us all to our undue deaths, and it will be your fault. Your fault!"   
  
Fiercely gripping her upper arms, he shook her, hard, his body responding to her, appreciating the way his body transferred his ill desire to her. "You have manipulated me, seduced me and talked me into treason and murder by using this body!" he growled. "Perhaps you are losing your allure."   
  
"You are no better than that cursed breeder!" she threw back at him, finally losing her temper as she was rebuffed. "He has made you into his lapdog...why don't you go to his chambers, where you might sit at his feet and lick his balls!"   
  
Enraged, he threw her against the wall, not willing to admit to himself just why that suggestion fired his blood so. Vaako advanced and slapped her with an open hand as she tried to pounce upon him, fingernails extended to carve his face to ribbons. She lolled against her dressing table, barely able to stand, dazed. Roughly he turned her about, pushing her down on her belly against the piece of furniture, hand delving under her gown to pull it to her hips. His other hand unfastened his trousers, freeing himself as she started to struggle.   
  
Her shrill cry of defiance warned him as she bucked against him, and he kicked her legs apart, ignoring her guttural sounds as he rammed himself into her from behind, his aroused cock boring into her without preparation or warning. She writhed under him like a thing possessed as he fucked her, her vitriol falling upon now-deaf ears. It had been too long that he had reined in his passions.   
  
"Long have I been your whore, Dame Vaako," he growled into her ear as he reamed her, ignoring her put-on cries. He knew she was not feeling much pain - she only screamed her outrage. "I think it's time you remembered that I am the ranking officer in this marriage." He sped his harsh rhythm as he felt her juices bathe him, a sign of her arousal despite her protests.   
  
"You would be nothing without me!" she cried, fury coloring her voice even as it deepened in passion.   
  
"You think I have not noticed as you visited other lords these past days?" he hissed, noticing with grim satisfaction how her back stiffened. "You think I do not know that you connive to move to a more controllable mark within society, perhaps leaving me behind?" He shoved his hand into her hair, pulling it loose from its trappings as he forced her body to bow back toward him. Then, her ear close, he bit her neck brutally, leaving dark marks and drawing blood. "You have been a whore to advance yourself, why not be a whore for me, dear wife?" he spit out.   
  
He shoved her down against the desk again, ignoring her yell, and pulled free of her body. Before she could shift, he pinned her down and spread her cheeks, pressing himself against the tightly furled hole he had to this point ignored, and shoved in as hard as he could.   
  
Her blood-curdling shriek was music to his ears.   
  
When he finished with her some time later, he left her sprawled on the bed on her belly, marked and bloody, as he cleaned up and changed his uniform. As he left, he glanced to her, eyes hard. She could be the most conniving bitch he knew, but she would turn those weapons on someone other than him from now on or suffer his wrath. Hopefully she had learned her lesson - the injuries he inflicted upon her should have set his will firmly in her mind. Satisfied, he left her there, heading to the map room to get some work done.   
  
He should have expected he would be interrupted.  
  
"You got some ass."   
  
Vaako's eyes flickered up from his viewer to see the Lord Marshal lounging against the door. The breeder had adopted a more formal style of dress recently - if only that his clothing was now all black and armored. It made him look even more imposing. He didn't favor the vulgar comment with a reply.   
  
"So the Dame puts out, huh? Good for you. You look more relaxed," Riddick drawled.   
  
Tilting his head and pinning Riddick with a barely tolerant gaze, Vaako noted that his own current good mood was likely a result of his recent diversion. "And how did I become so lucky to receive your august presence?" he said sarcastically.   
  
"I've decided on a target for the armada."  
  
His easy statement brought Vaako up short, and he scrambled to reorder his thoughts. "And the target is?"  
  
Riddick's smile was vicious. "Butcher Bay." Vaako's brow furrowed, and the Lord Marshal continued. "It's a triple max prison, and I was a "guest" there once upon a time - before I broke out of the unbreakable security."  
  
Vaako restrained himself from rolling his eyes about the inherent boast, but the rest intrigued him. "A prison. So the men there would be strong."  
  
"Yeah. Good converts. And the rest I want to waste. As for the planet itself, wiping it clean would be a favor to the universe."  
  
The Necromonger studied Riddick for a long moment, actually quite pleased with the plan. "When do you want this to happen?"  
  
Riddick's grin was feral. "As soon as possible."  
  
==  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
Vaako grew more annoyed each time he was asked that question. "The Lord Marshal does as he wishes. He need not attend the plans to invade one small planet." The other men around the map table argued, and the commander just ignored them, going on with his plans.  
  
Riddick had been absent from them for the last two days. The general consensus among the nobles was that he was hiding in his rooms. Among the soldiers, rumors of his desertion grew in strength. The Purifiers stood back and watched, urging those who stepped too far out of line to attend to their own rituals. Vaako himself was taking the time to plan the prison invasion, knowing any first resistance would have to be quashed.  
  
"Vaako! How can you stand by as the Lord Marshal shirks his duty?"  
  
"Enough!" Vaako snapped, his fist slamming onto the map table, silencing the complaints. "You have your duties. You will perform them or you will answer to me and be promoted!" His temper could only be pushed so far, regardless of his purified state.  
  
He sent a messenger to the Lord Marshal's rooms when they arrived at the planet, and another when the army was ready to take the planet. As each message went unheeded, Vaako seethed and determined to continue with the invasion. If Riddick would not act, then he would. He gave the order for the planet killers to be launched, and he watched in satisfaction as the invasion began before making for his own frigate. Since the Lord Marshal would not be present to address the denizens, he would assume that role.  
  
The fight was short and bloody, for the most part conducted by technology on the part of the prison until the Necromongers obliterated the control rooms and reactors controlling most of the power systems. The guards were warned with each wave to stand down for conversion - and many chose to do so, having no particular loyalty to this life besides quick, forced fucks, as much whiskey as they could find, and violence aplenty. Their new lives would offer all those things.  
  
The convicts, however, proved more stubborn. Their voices raised angrily, they complained and cursed about leaving their bloody little niches, especially the bosses who ruled each section, from Rehab to Triple Max. Vaako raised his weapon and was on the cusp of ordering their extermination when the prisoners started going quiet, a few at a time, until the main cavern where they had been gathered went totally silent. Vaako narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious, until he caught wind of the whispers...  
  
"It's him...eyeshine...ruthless...escaped...sh iv...blood...Riddick..."  
  
Vaako resisted the urge to turn and look behind him as he heard heavy footfalls on the steps, as if the man were emphasizing each step to make a point while descending from the upper level. The abject fear and healthy respect the Necromonger could see on the convicts' faces was far more than exhibited for the invaders. Riddick entered his peripheral vision and kept on walking, head high.  
  
He wore all black, topped with a fitted, high-collared black jacket of Necromonger design, Vaako recognized. Despite the low light throwing shadows over the Lord Marshal, Vaako was forced to acknowledge how the vision appeared so right. Riddick carried that knife - the knife with which he had killed Zhylaw, in one hand, no other weapon visible. He stopped three stairs below Vaako and held up the knife, pointing out toward the rabble. And his voice, when he spoke, was powerful and absolutely frigid.  
  
"Get down on your fuckin' knees and convert or I'll split every one of you. Very. Very. Slowly."  
  
Even Vaako shivered.  
  
The prisoners dropped to their knees en masse. Vaako's eyes remained focused on the prisoners as the Lord Marshal deliberately turned his back on the prisoners and stalked back up the stairs, the smallest of very evil smiles was on his face. From the corner of his eye, Vaako could see his stature and body seemed even more cut, even more imposing than ever before, without having lost that animal fluidity that so marked his movements. Vaako was enraptured.  
  
Riddick stopped at the top of the stairs and turned around, surveying the presence of his army and the soon-to-be converts. The smile grew into a smirk as he looked around. "Ah, home sweet fuckin' home," he drawled, rubbing his hands together. Vaako could no longer resist turning to look. Riddick's magnetism was amplified, and it was near impossible to look away, not that Vaako wanted to try. Then Riddick pulled off his goggles, looked right at Vaako, and growled, "Let's level it."  
  
Vaako couldn't even breathe. The Lord Marshal's face was cut in severe lines in the stronger light near the door, his skin was pale as death, his eyes were ringed with tell-tale black, and red, round scars stood livid upon each side of his neck.  
  
The commander's heart screamed with utter devotion - Riddick had converted.  
  
==  
  
The next day passed Vaako by in a blur as powerful memories inscribed themselves upon his mind's eye: The Lord Marshal standing at the wide view port and watching wolfishly as the planet killers released their deadly power, utterly obliterating Butcher Bay; standing over the Elemental who cried for mercy from her place crumpled upon the floor; the nobility shrinking in terror as they recognized Riddick's conversion and his orders to increase Purification rites; the unholy glee in those silvered eyes as those who had sought to wrench his throne from him were brought before him for judgment.  
  
All the while, he kept Vaako by his side, and the commander watched hungrily as the traitors were brought forward. Guards dragged in several in the minor nobility, a decent handful of the army's second-line commanders, and not a few of the leading Nobility, including two minor Purifiers. They were all promoted at an undue time, because of their own treachery.  
  
And then he faced Dame Vaako, who shrieked to her husband for help.  
  
Riddick turned his chin toward him. "Well, Vaako?" he purred. "What good is her name now, now that I rule the Nobility?"  
  
Vaako lips twitched and slowly pulled into a smile as she continued to scream, struggling uselessly in the guards' hands. "None," he replied, eyes flaring.  
  
The Lord Marshal looked back at her. "Worth making her a public-use piece of ass?" When Vaako snorted, Riddick smiled. "Didn't think so." He gestured to the guards. "Take her belowdecks to the soldiers who fought today, and throw her to them. They deserve a reward." If the dame's voice could have become any shriller, it would have.  
  
"And when they are done?" Vaako asked, his voice filled with relish.  
  
Riddick crossed his arms. "She'll be useless. Space her. She doesn't rank a sun." The sentenced dame continued to scream as the guards took her away, and the rest of the Nobility cowered in front of him. Several of the military advisors nodded in approval.  
  
"Now that the bitch is gone, her honored rank is conveyed to you, isn't it, Vaako?" Riddick asked broadly, turning to sprawl on his throne.  
  
"Yes, my Lord," the commander answered, watching the Lord Marshal carefully, wondering what was going on in that head.  
  
"And she was one of the top-ranked assholes, right?"  
  
Vaako repressed a smirk. "Yes, my Lord."  
  
"Good." The Lord Marshal turned back to the gathered. "Kneel before my new consort, and then get the hell out," he ordered to the mass of Necromongers.  
  
In one fell swoop, Riddick had rid Vaako of his greatest pain and replaced it with greatest honor. He watched arrogantly as the Necromongers slowly fell to their knees before the throne, prostrate before them both, in a spreading wave. The commander turned his head to see Riddick watching. He looked amused.  
  
He sat there until the masses cleared out, herded by the guards who shut the heavy doors leading into the large hall. Vaako then turned and knelt on one knee in front of Riddick. "Why have you done this?" he demanded, jaw set. The breeder had turned himself into the perfect Lord Marshal, the most powerful of Necromongers, a man not to be matched by anyone.  
  
"Why what? The conversion? The killings? The consort?" Riddick answered with a smirk. Vaako's face went stark with annoyance, and Riddick just laughed.  
  
"The conversion. If it was good enough for Kyra, then it works for me. I remember something a guy told me in lockup once. 'What doesn't kill me, makes me stronger.' Sounds like a good Necromonger credo, huh? As for the killings - well, you clean out the bosses every once in a while. They'll be replaced, but they'll get weaker every time. And then you rule the slam." Riddick stood and stalked out of the hall toward his chambers.  
  
As he followed, Vaako looked at his Lord with new eyes - Riddick had planned this all along. There was no other explanation. He had seen the strength the conversion would bring him and how it would make him the undisputable leader of the largest power in the universe. He had recognized the violence that called to him and filled his soul. He had found a way to resolve the pain of his lost Furyan past and the draw of a future where he alone would decide who would live and die.  
  
He was the embodiment of their race, and Vaako could express nothing less than awe.  
  
Vaako turned a corner only to be grabbed and slammed against the wall, Riddick's body like granite against his. The cool of his skin as Vaako grasped his arms did nothing to quench the fire he saw in Riddick's eyes.  
  
"As for the consort, you keep what you kill," Riddick rasped as he pawed down Vaako's clothes, ripping open the seams. "I killed her. I keep you."  
  
Gasping at the flood of passion, Vaako soaked in the Lord Marshal's strength, and their mouths met in fierce battle, tearing skin and drawing blood as they wrestled for dominance.  
  
After playing with him, Riddick spun Vaako about and heaved him against the wall. Vaako growled needfully as his chest smashed against the bulkhead and Riddick bared his flesh. The commander's fingers tried to dig into the cool steel when Riddick lowered his head to bite into his shoulder, ravenous, as he forced his way into Vaako's body.  
  
Vaako's hoarse screams of pleasure echoed around them, punctuated by Riddick's rough grunts and hissed encouragements as Vaako shoved back against him, inciting his angry passion. Every pounding thrust rammed Vaako's hips into the steel, and he clung to the girders as he climaxed, Riddick riding him hard and mercilessly into his own explosion.  
  
Turned boneless and aching, Vaako's mind whirled. He knew he had been claimed.  
  
Riddick chuckled and pulled free of his body. "It's a new game, Vaako. Let's go win it." He held out his arm as the other Necromonger turned to him, eager fanaticism burning in his eyes.  
  
"Yes, Lord Marshal."


End file.
